


our roots became a tree (to shade what we make under it)

by msbrokenbrightside



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Adrenaline, Blood Drinking, Class Differences, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, F/M, La Petite Mort Quite Literally, Lingerie, Multi, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Battle, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:31:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msbrokenbrightside/pseuds/msbrokenbrightside
Summary: Delilah and Sylas finally get Anna into their bed after they take Whitestone.





	our roots became a tree (to shade what we make under it)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimaracretak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/gifts).



> This has been in my drafts for too long and I needed to finish it. Sorry it took so long, babe. 
> 
> (["Southern Girl" by Incubus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wI_xmZ2mq6c))

There is still blood under Delilah’s fingernails.

Anna sees the dark red as Delilah unbuttons the double-breasted jacket she put Anna in for the dinner. The head De Rolo, whatever his name had been, complimented her on it. Not in the same way that Sylas had, when she entered their carriage before, eyes tearing into her.

_“You clean up well,” Sylas had murmured, Delilah nestled into his side and she had nodded and made a soft noise, corner of her mouth turning up._

_Anna had frowned, reading between their lines._

_She cleaned up well for someone born so low._

But now, well, how could she stay mad when she had her pick of the De Rolo’s litter. Sans the one girl Delilah had picked out for herself.

And how could she stay mad when Delilah knew to push her hand under the loose shirt Anna wore beneath the jacket, and pinch a nipple between her sharp nails.

When she does though, Delilah finds the hardened nub caressed in lace.

Delilah’s smile tugs at the corner again. Her eyes wild in her post-battle high even if the rest of her is still put together like the dolls Anna used to see in shop windows in Rexxentrum as a girl. All she wanted when she was younger was to mess their perfect hair and rip their pretty dresses.

She still wants that and she reaches for Delilah but behind her Sylas holds her wrists tight to her sides.

His laugh is deep, her body sat in his lap on the bed, and he leans in to hum against her ear.

“I know,” he whispers, breathe on her soft shell, “She’s too tempting for her own good.”

Delilah laughs now, high and a little breathless as she tugs hard enough to rip Anna’s shirt down to see the lace. Green, a darker shade then the energy she summoned to her finger earlier, but green nonetheless.  She had picked it out, on their way to Whitestone. She had asked—in the way Delilah always asked, which was a demand—that Anna wear it under her armor.

Anna had scoffed at first, a waste of money she had said, but kept it. They had been dancing around this tug between the three of them. Anna unsure of her footing, Delilah and Sylas eager to pull her into their bed.

“Sylas, dear,” Delilah sighs, leaning across Anna’s shoulder to kiss him. Pleased, Anna thinks, that Anna’s done what she asked of her, that Anna’s joined them finally. Anna hears the smack of their lips and the slip of their tongues against one another. She feels herself slicken and Anna can’t help but squirm against the hold on her.

She’s not used to the lack of control. In all of her exploits before she had been the one to initiate, to push, to render her partners to oblivion.  

Now she’s caught and at the thought, at the continuing wet sounds against her ear, she snarls.

They stop. Delilah moves back into her sight. A perfect eyebrow raised, smile imitating innocent.

“If you insist on having me, then have _me_ ,” Anna growls, no doubt likening herself to a cornered beast snapping at her captors. Maybe it’s the leftover anger from their comments at her class in the carriage, maybe it’s the adrenalin still pumping through her from the fight, maybe it’s the continued throbbing in her cunt, but Anna is not interested in being ignored tonight.

Delilah nods, closing her eyes so that her lashes lay dark across her cheek bones. The softness of her distracts Anna and then Delilah strikes, like a snake, eyes alight again. Talented hands unlacing Anna’s pants and pulling them off her legs with deft speed.

The hairs on Anna’s body rise and she feels more than just the chill of her legs exposed to the cold air.

“If you would, dear,” Delilah says to Sylas, before shifting her body closer to the bed. Sylas moves at her command, as if it was clear as the night sky through the window in the master bedroom they occupy now, and Anna’s back follows his chest as he leans into the headboard behind them.

Delilah smiles at both of them and presses a kiss between Anna’s breasts before making her way down Anna’s chest. Slowly and Sylas grips her wrists tight again when Anna pulls to make Delilah move faster. Leisurely, Delilah pulls the lace away from Anna’s cunt. And then finally, she kisses Anna’s clit and licks at her folds.

Anna should be jealous at how many talents Delilah seems to have. But with them directed at her, Anna can’t really. Especially when she presses her tongue inside Anna, fingers alongside it, while her other hand plays with Anna’s clit.

Sylas presses his own lips against the corner of her mouth and Anna turns her head at the invitation. Slipping her tongue into his mouth, licking at his fangs, to feel him twitch under her. Well-behaved, she thinks, as he hasn’t tried to thrust up against her.

Trained, unlike her.

But if the reward for Delilah’s training is her mouth, well, Anna may consider it.

She even whines when Delilah finally lifts from her, separating her lips from Sylas to glare down at her. Sylas chuckles, pressing a kiss to Anna’s cheek.

 “I’m sure you would like a taste too, dear,” Delilah says, mouth smeared with the remnants of Anna, “You won’t mind, Anna?”

Anna freezes then, hyperaware of Sylas’s mouth—something she should have been watching the entire night, she scolds herself—and watches as Delilah licks her lips.

“ _Have you?_ Isn’t that what you said,” Delilah continues, hands leaving Anna’s hips to travel up her stomach, across the scars, the ribs, to cup her breasts.

She shudders and feels Sylas lower his head to her neck. When his tongue laps at her pulse she whines, flushing hot in shame and fear, and her hips, now free, rise to Delilah’s mouth. But before she reaches Delilah pulls back.

“A yes then?” Delilah asks, twisting both of Anna’s nipples through the lace again.

Anna throws her head back, pressing to Sylas’s shoulder, gasping.

Sylas breathes hot against her throat and the memory of him tearing into one of the guards flicks to the front of her mind, the redness dripping from his open mouth and his hazy eyes. Her cunt throbs.

 A low growl comes from his chest, “A yes?”

Anna pants, closing her eyes tight, trying to think.

But between the two of them, she’s lost.

“Yes,” she sobs, lifting her hips and her neck up.

“Good,” Delilah chimes, before lowering her head and pulling Anna’s swollen clit between her lips again.

Sylas doesn’t bite deep at first, only nipping at the skin. But soon he lets Anna’s wrists go; lifting a hand to slip under Delilah’s on her breast, above her heart, before he sinks he fangs into Anna’s neck.

She screams and grabs at Delilah’s hair, hands finally free, pulls her down forcefully onto her cunt. Sylas puts his free arm across her stomach but let’s Anna keep Delilah against her. She should worry she may suffocate Delilah but she can’t. Not when she hears her own pulse throb in her ear, not when she feels Sylas suck the blood out of her.

She comes abruptly, surprising her, when Delilah takes Anna’s clit between her teeth. When she feels her own life slipping from her into Sylas. Anna thinks she screams again, but her blood is too loud and her mind is too flooded with pain and pleasure to know for sure.

When she comes to, her vision is cloudy, no doubt from the loss of blood as well as the intensity of her orgasm.  Sylas has stopped feasting on her blood but the ache from his fangs still throbs on her neck. She hears them over her. The soft smacking of lips again and she can’t stop from growling, even if it’s soft.

Delilah coos, earning another snarl, “I told you she’s perfect, dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
